Sabbatical
by SpidEMcD
Summary: PPTH needs to make budget cuts.  While each department makes a sacrifice, Diagnostics draws the short straw. Written as a one-shot for the House O/C Babes prompt:  House takes time off; where does he go, what does he do?


SABBATICAL

August 31st, 7 PM Board Meeting - Princeton-Plainsboro Conference Room

"… motion passed. Next item on the agenda: mandatory furloughs. Last meeting we discussed each department head taking a one week leave without pay due to the decrease in state funding, lower donations due to the economy and the increasing number of non-insured patients. In order for the hospital to stay afloat, we must cut back as much as possible, wherever possible.

"Dr. Cuddy has compiled the list of department heads. It is our job to prioritize who goes when based on their respective case and course loads."

Cuddy distributed the list which indicated each department head's tenure, class load, professional publications, and number of patients he or she saw on average per week.

It was no surprise to anyone that Dr. Gregory House ranked low in all categories. He'd be the easiest to send off on 'sabbatical'. They didn't have to deliberate on that. The rest of his colleagues received a scheduled furlough that fit into their professional lives.

"Dr. Cuddy, since you are Dr. House's supervisor, you have the honor of delivering the news."

Wilson noted that Cuddy seemed uncomfortable with the task; almost as if she knew the kind of flak she would catch just for suggesting he abide by the Board's decision. James didn't envy her and hoped she wouldn't ask him to help deliver the news.

September 1st, 10 AM Department of Diagnostics, Office of Gregory House

Lisa Cuddy had been settled in at her desk for quite some time. She had left a message at Reception to be notified the minute Dr. House arrived. She received the call and marched straight for Diagnostics. When she got to House's office, she became even more exasperated. He was relaxing in his chair playing his Gameboy.

"House!" She shouted indignantly as she pushed her way through the door.

Greg looked up at her innocently.

"You've screwed up."

"What now?"

Cuddy began to pace. Greg watched as her anxiety grew.

"You're wearing a path in my carpet. Only I'm allowed to do that."

She turned and glared at him. "The Board has decided last night to enact week-long mandatory leaves of absence for department heads. Unpaid. We've come up with a schedule of who goes when."

"So you're here to tell me what week I get off? I hope you didn't give me preferential treatment."

She ignored him. "You don't have a teaching course load."

"Uh, I teach five to seven days a week, eight to twelve plus hours a day with three to four of the top scholars this place has."

"You haven't published - in years."

"I just haven't published under my own name. Sometimes I go by Dr. Seuss, sometimes Dr. Spock, even Dr. Jekyll. Hell I wrote a piece by Dr. Who for the World Health Organization. Besides, my Fellows publish, and they can't do that unless I sign off."

"You see less than fifty patients a year. Most of your colleagues see that in a week!"

"What about all the clinic patients you force on me? It's because I don't see that many special cases that you punish me by increasing my clinic hours. So in actuality, I see more than my colleagues."

"Well, that's not how the Board sees it." Cuddy was caught off guard. Had she thought about how much House and his team contributed to the clinic, let alone the hospital, she would have been able to present a case against what they decided.

"But Cuddy, you and Wilson are on the Board. You've both had my ass before. You make it sound like you sold me out." Greg's sixth sense was performing semi fore with red flags.

"You were singled out as the one Department Head who could take off an entire month and only be out four patients."

House snorted derisively. "Great, four random people get to die over what, twenty thousand dollars?"

'Touché', she thought. When he put it that way, House was right. There was no monetary value to the lives he would save. Why hadn't she thought of that? Other doctors' patients could be referred elsewhere. House was the last chance for his patients. Sure the team could perform without him, but they always deferred to his knowledge.

"Considering I'm so expendable, maybe I should take that month to find another job." It would have been so much better if he could have hopped to his feet and marched out leaving her to think about it. Life was so unfair - maybe not. "Please turn around an march out of my office in a huff."

"Why?"

"Because I can't."

"Then I should probably add that your sabbatical starts October first."

"In that case…" House waggled his eyebrows.

"Sorry House, you're sailing without this supertanker."

September 7th, 10:10 AM - Diagnostics Conference Room

Greg House leaned heavily on his cane as he entered the room. His Fellows watched him carefully, expecting a foul mood to accompany his increased pain. Once he set down his knapsack and headed for the coffee maker, it was evident that the weight of the satchel was the cause for the increased limp.

"What have you got in here," Chase asked as he opened the bag.

"Get your paws off my stuff, and mind your own business," House growled.

Robert Chase pulled out a book fit for a coffee table, surprised it fit into the backpack. Several maps fell to the floor as well. "Are you planning a trip to France?"

House returned to the table, plucking the book and maps out of Chase's hands. "Maybe."

"When?" Taub was most curious.

"October. I'm going on sabbatical. Gonna write my memoirs."

Taub continued to smile slyly.

"You look like the cat that cheated on the canary."

"You and Cuddy going to elope in the City of Love?"

House put his finger to his lips. "Shh. I want it to be a surprise."

Foreman, who until now was ignoring the chit chat, looked over his morning paper with his stoic, 'you've got to be kidding me' look. "He's yanking your chain. Everybody knows Cuddy's dream French getaway is Mont St. Michel."

"How do you know?" House was perturbed.

"Cuddy's been talking to everyone about your 'little getaway', he added air quotes for emphasis.

"Paris is so déclassé," House explained to Taub.

"How do you plan on getting there?" Chase's voice betrayed his suspicion.

"There's this neat invention called the Boeing 747."

"But how are you going to get to Mont St. Michel? You've got to walk the causeway. Best to know when the tides come in so you don't get swept away on that one kilometer hike."

"If we have to walk it, there's still that fun little seat with wheels, let see, what do they call it? Oh yes, a wheel chair." House like baiting his dumb, blond bombshell.

"Great. Let's hope Cuddy can run with you before the tide comes in and kills you both."

"Why are you being intentionally mean?" Taub feigned shock over their amusement.

"He could always descend by helicopter," Foreman added casually. "Although where they'd drop him, God only knows."

"When's the last time you visited there?" House was getting annoyed. "They have a shuttle now. I hear it has pontoons too, just in case. And if you turn to Page 27, there's a spectacular view of the parking lot."

Chase looked up from the book. "Are you planning on going back on Vicodin?"

"Only if you keep asking stupid questions."

"I'm just saying, there's a lot of steps involved - especially if you're going to visit the abbey."

"Nah, wouldn't want to do that. There's so much else to do there."

"Says here, that before you get to the abbey, you have to climb the Grand Degre, which is a steep and narrow staircase"

House's heart sank. He'd never be able to manage so many stairs in one trip, let alone one day.

"And that's just to the abbey door. If you want to go to the gallery around the roof, you have to take the Escalier de Dentelle, or Lace Staircase. By the time you get to the top, you'll have taken over 900 steps."

"That helicopter's sounding pretty good right now," Foreman teased.

"Shut up!" He realized he could never give Cuddy the dream vacation she wanted. Physically he wasn't man enough. How would he tell her? He was sure the disappointment alone would put an irreversible crack in their relationship. He could never take her to the place desired most.

September 14th, 10:40 AM - House's Office

Greg ambled his way into his office more tired than he should have been after a three day weekend. Especially since he didn't do anything to warrant exhaustion except surfing the web. He wanted to fill his month off with some sort of adventure, figuring a week with Cuddy, and possibly the rug rat, could turn out to be fun. But anywhere he could think of was inappropriate for a family.

Some of the places he enjoyed as a kid and would love to share with Lisa were out of the question because of his infirmity. It was hard not to focus on what he was no longer able to do.

That depressed him; and when he was depressed, he didn't sleep well. He also tended to withdraw and become cranky.

"You're late," Cuddy marched into his office. "You were supposed to be in the clinic at nine."

"Wait. I have to call my boss and tell her I'll be in late." Greg eased himself into the task chair and turned on his computer.

"I need you in the clinic, NOW."

He groaned, got back to his feet and shuffled passed her.

"No rebuttal? No whining? You must be coming down with something."

"All the more reason to release me from clinic duty. I might be contagious."

"Wear a mask." Cuddy picked up her pace, walking ahead of him to the elevator.

"Wow, you really know how to hurt your crippled boyfriend," he called after her.

"You haven't seen anything yet." She pressed the button for closing the elevator doors.

He stood in front of the elevator brooding. James Wilson exited his office meeting up with his friend.

"'Sup?"

House didn't answer.

"House, you okay?"

"It's over."

"What's over?"

"I can't give her everything she wants." He didn't face Wilson, just stared ahead at the metal doors.

James stepped forward to press the call button. "Instead of rheuminating on the things you won't be able to accomplish - here's a novel idea - why don't the two of you plan on doing something new and interesting to both of you?"

They entered the waiting car.

"So what are you and I going to do," Greg deflected.

"I don't get my week during October."

"Got any vacation time coming?"

"Some, but I think Sam has plans."

"Maybe I'll just dump everybody and go on a pilgrimage by myself."

"You can't spend your entire month moping around."

"Don't plan on it. I'm serious. I might actually write a book."

"Read a book, I'd believe. Write a book-"

"Hey!"

Wilson shrugged. "I'll believe it when I see it."

"Oh ye of little faith."

"Here's an idea: write an article, get it published; teach a class. Do the things other department heads do."

September 21st, Diagnostic Conference Room

"How's the pool coming?" Taub entered the conference room noticing Chase was heavily involved in some sort of graph.

"We're two weeks in and only half of the usual participants have come up with plausible ideas as to what House is going to do with his time off."

"What about implausible ideas?" Foreman always found the betting pools a good source of amusement.

"Jack off to porn until it falls off." Chase was nonchalant.

"God, that's so sad." Taub knew what he'd do with the time off.

"Only because it's probably true," Foreman chuckled.

"You're still not signed up."

Eric shrugged. "Not sure what to pick. I'm choosing my options carefully."

"Well, you've inspired me," Taub reached into his pocket for his wallet. He took out a hundred dollar bill, handing it to Chase. "Put me down for a month of holidays."

Chase was dumbfounded.

"Columbus Day. Canadian Thanksgiving. Halloween. And believe it or not, the Catholics have a religious feast day every day of the month. I wouldn't put it past House to come up with that excuse."

Foreman rolled his eyes. "I'm glad I waited to pick."

Shortly after lunch House returned to the conference room cranky. He was upset to find his Team enjoying themselves at his expense.

"You know, gambling isn't allowed on hospital grounds." He pulled two fifties out of his wallet and handed them to Chase. "Put me down for Triskaidekaphobia."

"There is no Friday the 13th in October this year," Taub corrected.

"You are as dumb as you are short," House said haughtily. "Paraskevidekatriaphobia is the fear of Friday the 13th. Triskadiadekaphobia is fear of the number thirteen."

"And you're afraid of the number thirteen?" Taub challenged.

"Oh, I knew you'd ask that."

"You're making it up," Foreman accused.

"Believe me when I say it's a real phobia. I should know. I am seeing a psychiatrist on a regular basis."

"And so I ask again. Why is thirteen unlucky for you?"

"Two words: Remy Hadley."

"Seriously?"

House sighed exaggeratedly. "Let's look at some of the historical reasons. There were thirteen people present at the Last Supper."

"That supposedly happened on a Friday the 13th," Chase added.

"'Supposedly'. So that's why they excommunicated you from the seminary. Heretic."

"Are you para-triska-whatever-aphobic too?"

"Only on days that are an actual Friday the 13th. On those days I make pilgrimages to tall buildings and ride the elevators to the thirteenth floor."

"One instance of a bad event on a Friday the 13th doesn't support your fear." Taub was sure he could catch House on supporting his hypothesis.

"The Hammurabi Code omits the number thirteen."

The three Fellows looked to each other to see if any of them got that reference.

"Uh…okay?" Chase ventured.

"The stock market crashed on the 13th - and by that I mean the first stock market crash, way back when."

"Also a Friday the 13th," Taub added.

"You would know," House mumbled.

"Face it, House, it sounds more like you have paratrisketphobia," Foreman teased. "I'd stay away from wheat crackers if I were you."

But House wasn't listening. He had gotten an idea. It would take a little internet research, but he would concoct and outlandish reason to take off October. And believe it or not, triskaidekaphobia and paraskevidekatriaphobia played right into it.

"Before I leave at the end of the month, I'll post my October plans around the Hospital. Betting closes zero hundred hours on the 28th."

September 28th - Pre-Dawn Postings in the Lobby and Clinic Waiting Room

TO: All PPTH Staff and Patients

FROM: Dr. Gregory House, Department of Diagnostics

RE: October Sabbatical

In recognition of the fact that the administrators of this facility will owe a debt to members of the Knights Hospitaler; I will be forced to take of leave of absence during the month of October. Some of you may be aware of the tragic events of Friday, October 13, 1307 when some bureaucrats decided that being indebted to their employees was no longer desirable. So they arrested them from doing their duty. (I speak of the King of England and the French Pope and their employees, the Knights Hospitaler and the Knights Templar.)

The trumped up charges and my responses to them:

Apostasy - not possible, I don't believe in any god

Idolatry - although I am god-like, I do not believe I am a god

Heresy - I like to think outside the box

Obscene Rituals - using the MRI for non-proscribed testing is not wrong

Homosexuality - don't ask don't tell

Financial Corruption - I'm not the one who can't make the payroll

Fraud - it's called trial and error

Secrecy - everybody lies

So for the fifty or so patients weekly who won't be receiving the benefits of my expert skills, I ask you, is it worth it?

Might I remind you that later, these kind Knights were disbanded and excommunicated. If that happens to us, who will help you then?

September 28th, 9 AM - House's Office

House sat at his computer patiently waiting for the repercussions from the Board. He had already read through several emails congratulating him on standing up for himself in an unique and creative way. Even other department heads who received word through their staffs cheered his tenacity. Very few thought that docking a doctor's hours and salary was an appropriate way of cutting the budget.

How the Board would react was another story. He expected Cuddy to burst through the door and verbally accost him. When she did, he'd be ready for it.

Instead, she approached confidently, a smile on her face. He took off his reading glasses and folded his hands on his desk, waiting for whatever she had to say.

"Your little stunt got the Board's attention. As a matter of fact, it got everyone's attention. The clinic is in an uproar."

"My work here is done. I guess I'll start that furlough early." He stood up and started packing his things into his knapsack.

"Hold on a minute." Cuddy put her hand on his. They locked eyes, his clouded and sad, hers bright and beaming. "I'm proud of you. You stood up for yourself."

"Like they say, the pen is mightier than the scalpel."

"I should have had your back from the beginning. When the Board got wind of your 'memo drama', I was able to defend you with your own words."

"And?"

"You won. They expect you here on Monday."


End file.
